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An ominous miasma surrounds you as you gracefully glide your way through the spectral realm. A dark veil clings to your slender body, barely distinguishable, and flows like liquid suspended in the air. It was but a scratch on the surface of what your powers were truly like. Long nails brush away your midnight black hair to unveil your luminous silver eyes. Your hair ‘hugs’ your face as you carefully turn your head to survey your surroundings.
An amalgamation of toxic green energy pummels your senses.
Pulsating. Thrashing.
Rocky ruins and islands obstruct your view. Eerie purple doors and windows barely flash in your peripheral vision. Whispers faintly flow into your ears. You involuntarily shiver yet you still barely react.
You can feel it all around. The tug and pull of chaotic energy, the anarchy of the Ghost Zone claws at you. You allow yourself to feel this energy, but at the same time, quash it when it becomes too much.
You sigh quietly. Not a spectre to be seen, it was expected.
Order and chaos.
Chaos rings through your mind.
A sensation rises up in your chest, your heart thuds erratically. Your body shivers violently as your conscience latches onto the thought. A beautiful, divine force from which you were born from. From a mother who was the personification of the night, an offspring of chaos.
It was fortunate you didn’t visit the Ghost Zone often. It wasn’t like you needed to, but a want. A warm, familiar sensation wiggles up into your chest. Too much exposure would have had…unfavourable results. That was the best you could describe it without the complicated details.
You were in this spectral dimension for one reason, and one reason only. Otherwise, you would be wasting time. It was the same every single time, rhythmic and never changing. Your mind could hardly draw any details of the last time your visit was deviated from a specific goal. It worked out perfectly for you.
There wasn’t much in the Ghost Zone that interested you. Except for one individual. You sigh softly as you land silently on a huge chunk of rock. Despite your exasperation of visiting this realm, you always got something out of it. Your eyes peer around with barely concealed eagerness in search of a familiar form.
It didn’t matter how much time passed. He retained that familiarity as he did as a boy long ago. He says that part of him died, but you sincerely doubt that. You could always feel the turmoil boiling inside him, the storm of emotions clashing with each other.
Another sigh blows out of your mouth. He always rejected your help, curiously he never rejected your presence.
A small smile makes itself known on your expression as it tugs at your facial muscles. Not necessarily hope, rather that he was still here and grounded. The fact that a small part of him remained, no matter how much he suppressed it. You didn’t dare push it, though.
You didn’t possess any sort of “ghost sense” whatsoever, so it was going to be impossible to tell when he was here. If he was even nearby at all. You always had quite the trip whenever of the two of you met up. He wasn’t the type to stay in one place for long.
Especially considering the power he had and the danger he posed. There was always an innate sense of danger whenever he was in the vicinity. You were not repelled by it, it was a constant thing for you, and it felt natural to you. The goosebumps you’d get were almost relieving and cooling. It helps that your mother, Nyx, is a dangerous entity herself.
Your senses, you could say, were fine-tuned to danger; and dangerous.
He never struck out at you. You turn on your heels, still in search of him. His red eyes always pierced through you, no matter which direction. Your neck always prickled at the sensation of being watched, the hairs on your neck always stood right up.
He very much had the power to hurt you and would, if he wanted to. You always took care to not provoke him and give him space when he needed it.
You crane your neck to glance behind you. A skintight awareness comes over you as your primordial senses alert you. Your mind hasn’t quite caught on to it yet, deep down you know that something is watching. And it may very well be hungry.
Nearby, on another large chunk of rock, a black and white form greets your gaze. For a moment, a happy warmth swells in you. The dark veil around your body shifts in a different direction.
You stop, uncertainty flashes through you.
The figure remained silent, settled atop of the rock. Seemingly unaware of your presence. Too occupied with themselves to look up.
You inhale deeply in minute frustration. Not even a tiny peep from the figure. Contention fills the air, the Ghost Zone regulates to the background. The chaos within you calms, but occasionally ripples. You feel it in your muscles and your hands clench.
“So, her royal highness graces us with her presence once again.” A smooth, deep voice emerges from the figure.
“You know me better than that,” you state firmly, “Dan.”
The figure – Dan – finally perks up in attention to his name being called.
“Don’t I?” He challenges. “Takes a lot to rise up to godhood.”
His voice is like a hot knife cutting through butter. Warmth rushes up to your chest, you pay it little mind but remain aware of it.
Dan stands up, tall and proud. His physique enhanced by the eerie, spectral glow of the Ghost Zone. You also try to pay little mind to it, yet your eyes wander. Dan’s most striking feature is his hair, few spectres had their hair to that effect.
Flowing and ever-changing, much like Dan himself. Flames that ignite with every twitch, crackle with every shift in his mood.
“It’s a blessing and a curse,” you counter, irritation laces your tone. “You lack…integrity and understanding of godhood.”
The last sentence was a mild jab. Dan’s eyes narrowed; still a jab nonetheless.
“Am I not called ‘the evilest ghost on the planet’ for nothing?” Dan spreads his arms out, muscles flexing, gesturing at himself.
“Your circumstances are…unique.”
“‘Unique’ she says…” Dan folds his arms with a mutter. “You were born from a goddess, I would hardly call that…unique.”
The last word is drawn out, long enough to focus your attention on it. You two have had this argument before, it seems almost customary at this point. To broach a familiarity that wasn’t quite there. Finding a semblance of solace that it was still there.
It continuously mystifies you as to why you keep coming back to this debate. Auto-tuned arguments and comparisons of things that were not even comprehensibly comparable. You’d fire right back, Dan always finds a way to deflect it. Going around and around in a circle, and no one wins.
“We keep coming back to this argument, and it doesn’t change,” you say, not as irritably. It wasn’t necessarily about the subject itself. “What do you hope to get out of it?”
Dan merely grins with a small shrug. “It’s a little amusing seeing you get all huffy.”
A tight feeling scrunches up in your gut. Your voice is caught in your throat, your mouth refuses to move for several seconds.
“Would you rather I get upset?” You inquire tartly. Your gut untangles itself, which is a relief, but your throat retains that fuzzy, scratchy sensation.
“It’s not that,” Dan retorts. He does a little hop off of his rock and floats down to yours. He stops right in front of you, still floating. “You know what I mean, milady.”
You don’t respond right away, Dan is so close to you that you can feel the waves of warmth radiate off of him. It was as if the danger melts away, even if just for a moment. You sigh, again, it aggravates your throat.
You ignore it.
“Please tell me again why we keep meeting up?” You ask in exasperation. Your hands place themselves on your hips.
“You’d miss me,” Dan murmurs, his hand rises up and dangerously close to your face.
He hasn’t touched you at all, you feel the tingle of a familiar phantom caress. Firm and gentle fingers that would stroke your jawline and left a spark that had you yearn for more. Hands that wanted the affection to chip away years of being touch starved. They pull away, every single time. The spark that remains eventually turns into a sting, fresh and raw on the surface of your skin.
“Wouldn’t…” You start off hesitantly; your voice quickly fades. “I…?”
Dan gives you a pointed look, disbelieving.
“Why else would you keep coming back here?” He asks knowingly, he pulls away and lands elegantly on the rocky surface. “You never want something without a good reason.”
“Curses…” You whisper to yourself. Dan always had a way of getting a reaction out of you. “Dan—you are dangerous, and…”
Your voice continues to falter. Something heavyset settles in your chest. Your facial expression grows soft.
“And…me?” Dan makes a ‘hm’ sound. “No need to say it, milady, I can see it on your face.”
Dan then turns his head away, gaze averting and pretending he doesn’t see you. Subconsciously, one of his hands rubs his wrist in discomfort. Strong enough to soothe pain and not accidentally crush the joint. Now that you actually have a closer look at him…
Something you didn’t see before, are a pair of metal cuffs on both wrists. Glowing brightly with green and worn down. Broken chains dangle from them, swinging back and forth with a silent story.
“Are those shackles?” You ask incredulously. You admit, it was difficult to imagine Dan in restraints like that.
“Why, yes, they are.” Dan grins down at you, his hand now motionless. “Care to try them on?”
You raise a brow unamused, “What did you do now?”
“The ‘being evil’ part, or the ‘being annoying’ part? I think there’s a difference…” Dan answers nonchalantly with a shrug.
“Quit redirecting me and get to the point.”
“Very well… I let myself get caught.” A dramatic sigh escapes his mouth.
“You—what?” Whatever you were about to say dies in your mouth as your mind processes what Dan just said.
“Walker had been trying to catch me for years, he never did because he knew I was too powerful for him.” Dan explains. His hand starts fidgeting with the cuff.
You remain silent and attentive; his story did mildly intrigue you, despite whatever trouble Dan causes.
“Never seen him as happy and surprised as he was when he saw me being ‘escorted’ by his goons,” Dan says with a sneer. His fangs shine in the spectral light. “He was definitely not expecting his precious prison to go up in ecto flames, either. Hah, I even left him exactly one prison cell undamaged.”
The memory of the warden’s shock and utter rage brings a genuine smile to Dan’s face. You aren’t sure what to make of it. It seems so bright on his face that you can’t help but feel the underlying ominousness of it.
A creak of metal rips your attention from Dan. The cuffs that were clasped a tad too tight around Dan’s wrists fall to the surface with a pathetic thud. Not a second too later, a kick off the rock sends them into the murky abyss below.
Dan turns back to you, his eyes shine brightly.
“Now…where were we?”
“We were talking about you,” you answer with uncertainty.
“About us,” Dan counters in clarification.
He comes close to you once again, you don’t react or move; he raises his hands to take your own into his. Lightning shoots through your nerves at the touch. You become stiller, focusing on the warmth that encapsulates you.
Dan pulls you close, your face merely inches from his. Your bodies lightly brush each other, enough to make of the both of you shiver.
What goes unspoken rises up between the two of you, palpable in the air. As thick as the ectoplasm that makes up the Ghost Zone. You become too aware of Dan’s breath on your face, just as he is aware of yours on his.
“Do you want something?” You ask with a small bite to your lips.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Dan’s voice lowers to a rough whisper.
His muscular form leans in closer, it gives the impression that he is much larger than you are. You have little choice but to gaze into his piercing red eyes. You hold your breath as you feel them examine you.
It’s not long before you gasp, your throat unclenches in relief. The barest of something sharp lightly touches your cheek. Just enough to pinch you and leave no mark. Your cheek stings with anticipation and a rising blush.
Dan draws away with a small grin. His fangs are more prominent than you can recall.
“You, are ridiculous,” you say slowly, the words coming out in soft breaths. “I can’t help but admire you for it.”
You turn away to gather yourself for a second. You hadn’t intended to be so forward like that, though it was freeing to ease up the tightness in your chest.
“I’m flattered you think so highly of me,” Dan comments behind you.
A pair of strong hands grip your shoulders, you tense up only for a moment before you relax. They’re careful to not squeeze you so hard, you know you can pull away any time you like. You can feel the tension seep into your body, numb almost, and the hands hold you up.
Soft lips slowly ease themselves on to the back of your neck. You inhale deeply, Dan’s name on the tip of your tongue. You refrain from moaning out loud, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
His hands start massaging your shoulders as his lips gently nip and kiss their way down. Tingle after tingle grows stronger with every breath against your back.
“Perhaps…” You say softly, glancing behind you. “I can make an exception…for an old friend.”
You hear Dan make a sound of satisfaction. His lips stop at your shoulder, he takes a breath. Then a soft, warm breeze blows on you. You twitch as your skin tickles in response.
“Do ‘old friends’ do…this?” Dan asks, his voice rough.
A sharp prick on your shoulder has you tilt your head back. You don’t need to look to know what it is, the tips of a set of fangs. They barely graze the surface of your flesh, a pleasurable burn wells in place.
Noting your ease of letting him so close to you, Dan invites himself closer. One of your hands eventually holds his, a silent plea. He smirks victoriously.
Neither of you can see each other’s smiles when Dan lowers his head. His fangs glint in the light, you move your head to expose your neck. Warmth surrounds you in a haze.
Sharp fangs at first graze your skin, tasting you. Seconds later, a piercing sensation that draws itself out makes you tense. Your breath catches in your throat, a groan threatens to erupt from it. Your chest swells and ripples with passion, a taste nearly foreign and intoxicating.
You wouldn’t have it any other way; just like the old times.